44. A Storm is Brewing
44
A STORM IS brEWING
*Raven*
The sky is bright and cloudless when we emerge the next morning. The storm from yesterday left the ground soaked through, and mud squishes under my shoes as we make our way back to the center of the field.
Mother’s been strangely quiet all morning as if she’s lost in thought. I can’t seem to shake her out of it no matter how much I try. I asked her many times if anything was wrong, but she only looked at me with amusement in her eyes that I couldn’t decipher. Though I have no reason to be afraid of her, I can’t help but be reminded of Queen Rowena’s cruelty.
We finally stop walking at roughly the same spot we were in yesterday. The forest to the north of us, the mountains to the east. She picks up right where we left off, instructing me to call animals to the center of the field.
The air is much hotter today, especially with the sun beating down on us mercilessly. It’s soaking up all the water from the ground and creating a humidity that is nearly unbearable. Even the animals seem to be affected by it, coming to us more slowly and seemingly grumpier. If they could speak, they’d probably chastise us for making them leave their cool, shady homes.
Still, they’re compliant, obeying my every silent command. It’s still strange that I can just think something into reality. It makes me wish I could bend the weather to my will. A stray cloud would be a mercy from the unseasonable warmth. Even a light breeze would make a huge difference.
No sooner have I thought it than I feel a small breeze kick up around my arms and face. It’s gentle, barely a whisper of wind, but it cools my sweating brow. I close my eyes enjoying the sensation, and when I open them back up, I notice a wispy cloud is now covering the sun.
I look at my mother, who is staring back at me in wonder. I don’t understand why, though. We haven’t done anything more extraordinary with the animals than yesterday. When she catches me looking at her, she nods her head, as if she’s answered a question that I didn’t ask.
“Remind me when you first started noticing your powers, Raven.” Her tone is demanding, rather than questioning.
“It wasn’t too long after my birthday,” I answer, picturing the moment I had a cat attack Ness and Kieran. “This woman at the castle was bothering me, and there was a cat nearby watching us. I wanted it to help me, to get her away from me, and suddenly it was scratching her, and when Kieran came to help, it scratched him, too.” I do remember the raven from the prison that happened that day, too, but I don’t think that was me.
Mother nods, her eyes darkening.
“Did they all bother you?” she asks sadly. “Your adopted family, I mean. Did they show you any kindness at all?”
I think on this for a moment, grateful that the steadily increasing wind is bringing tears to my eyes so I can explain them away when they start to fall.
“No,” I answer honestly. “Not a bit. I had a small room with a tiny bed while my siblings had luxurious bedrooms and private living rooms to host their friends. Not that I had any friends to host.”
“Why do you think that was?” she poses, a pitying look on her face. “Why do you think you didn’t have friends?”
I know she doesn’t mean for it to, but her question stings. Why didn’t I have friends? I think of Nessa with her mean girl minions. She didn’t like me from the moment she arrived in Dun’s Crossing, and she made it abundantly clear that no one who was kind to me could be friends with her. Even the girls who’d just ignored me most of my life started to bully me.
“A diplomat came to live with us, and he brought his daughter,” I explain. “She didn’t like me from day one, and she made sure no one else did either.”
“Did you do something to her?” mother asks, tipping her head to the side. I’m again reminded of Queen Rowena, and I try to even out my breath. This is my true mother, she isn’t trying to hurt me. She just wants to understand. I shake my head.
“I never did anything to her. I tried to befriend her, but she wasn’t interested. From the moment she arrived, all she cared about was making my life a living hell.”
“And your parents allowed it?” Her face is like a mask to me now. It must be as hard for her to ask me these questions as it is for me to answer.
“The king never really paid me much mind unless I was in serious trouble,” I explain, no longer needing to refer to King Gavin as my father. “The queen doled out punishment pretty regularly. The mean girls were nothing compared to her. She probably encouraged it.”
Mother nods, looking down at the ground, her face impossible to read. I look up to the sky as the tears start flowing freely from my eyes. More clouds have gathered now, blocking out the sun completely. It looks like another storm is coming up.
“Some parents believe physical punishment is the best way to discipline misbehaving children,” mother says, bringing my attention back. “It’s hurtful, of course, but they’re just doing what they think will best get their children in line.”
Her words twist like a knife in my heart. She has to know that I never misbehaved. I never did anything to deserve what they put me through. I’ve been able to see that clearly now. For so many years I wondered why I had to be so bad, why everything I did was so unbearable for my family. The moment I left, I realized that I’d done nothing wrong. They hated me because I wasn’t theirs. And I hate them because they stole me from those who would have loved me.
“They were not punishing me for bad behavior,” I shoot back, my voice thick with emotion. The wind is picking up more now, but I ignore it. I step closer to my mother, trying to get her to understand. “I never acted out, never stepped a foot out of line, but they treated me like I was willful and unlovable.”
Tears fall rapidly from my eyes now, rolling down my cheek and falling to the ground. A moment later, rain begins trickling from the sky, as if the sky itself is weeping for me.
“I was not a bad child,” I say louder, trying to be heard over the whistling wind. “I was not disrespectful or disobedient. All I ever wanted was to be loved and accepted, and they punished me for even that.”
The mask on mother’s face seems to break, and I realize there are tears falling from her eyes too. She closes the distance between us, wrapping me in her arms and holding my head against her shoulder.
“Of course you weren’t a bad child,” she whispers gently into my hair. “I’m sure you were a perfect child. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.”
“You couldn’t have known,” I sob against her. “I know you would’ve been so much kinder to me.”
She releases me and takes a step back, grasping both of my hands in hers. She turns her face to the rain falling from the sky, and I do the same, letting the droplets wash the tears from my face.
“But look what you can do, my love,” she slightly yells over the sound of the storm, a tinkle of laughter in her voice.
I look back at her confused, and the rain abruptly stops. Does she mean? She couldn’t possibly.
“You did that, Raven,” she confirms, looking me in the eye, then back to the sky, where the clouds are starting to disperse.
I drop her hands and step away, looking back up at the sky in amazement.
“I did that?” I whisper back to her, no longer having to compete with the wind. She simply nods.
“You are amazing, my darling,” she says back, her voice cracking with emotion. “When it stormed yesterday, I had my suspicions, but you’ve just confirmed it. You have a very rare gift, indeed.”
A shudder runs through me as if I’m afraid of my own capabilities. Maybe I am a little, but I also feel powerful in a way that I never have.
“You’ll need to learn to control it, of course.” Mother nods her head, again as if answering a question no one asked. “We’ll start small. Try to send a bolt of lightning down to that tree,” she instructs, pointing in the distance.
I envision it in my head, and a moment later, a flash of lightning engulfs the tree, sending its inhabitants scurrying and flying away.
“Sorry,” I scream to the animals and birds. Mother just laughs, pulling me against her and squeezing tightly.